So: The Blog I Could Not Bring Myself To Write. Not for any particular reason, if I'm honest, just malaise. As I write this, I am accompanied by a mug of hot water. "WHHHAAAA...?" I hear you emote, "WHERE'S YOUR CUP OF TEA?" Truth is, I've been plagued by some world-class mouth ulcers. Seriously. They're where I must have bitten my tongue, because there's one on top or it & one underneath. They have been bugging me since just after the gig I did in Stafford last week. I could feel them coming, but they weren't officially mouth ulcers yet. So I've barely sung, my talking has been pained, to say the least, and I haven't been able to record anything because I will sound ridiculous until these have gone. I was able to do open mic this Wednesday gone, but playing onstage is a bit different to doing a recording. When you're at home, the adrenaline isn't really flowing & won't carry you through, so everytime you clearly hear a lisped 's' you know why it sounds off, whereas you won't ever listen back to the three songs you played for a free beer in a pub, and everyone else will be too pissed to notice.
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| Messing about at the hotel |
Right. First things first. The gig.
Usually, what tends to happen when someone writes about a gig they went to is that they'll gush about the things that were great, then absolutely pull the rest of it to pieces. Well, this is what I have found, anyway. I shall attempt to do things in reverse, and talk about what narked me right off before being all effusive.
It only comes down to one thing, really: THE WANKERS. And, to be fair, there were about three. At the front, at least. The entire back half of the room seemed to be a dedicated bunch of self-interested bastards who KEPT. TALKING. In between songs, this chorus of loud conversation just echoed from the back of the room, and had I been onstage I might have tried to launch a few questions their way, or maybe shared a joke with the front half (who were, for the massive majority, attentive) about how rude the back half were being, and how it wouldn't matter me saying so, because they weren't listening anyway.
The three people in our half of the room repeatedly shouted for Bright Eyes songs, regardless of the fact that the band were quite obviously working through a SETLIST. There are acts who are quite obliging when someone calls out for a song (I can be if someone shouts out at the right time), but it has to be the right time to do so. If you continually bellow "PERFECT SONNET!" every ten picoseconds, then it's going to be short shrift for you, Sonny-Jim. And never mind the guy four along from my right, who kept SCREAMING: "CONOR!" Occasionally changing his tack and going for the more involved "CONOR! OBERST! IS THE GREATEST! SONGWRITER! OF OUR GENERATION!"
Oh, give it a fucking rest, mate.
He did mix things up a little by shouting for Bright Eyes songs, then went further leftfield by shouting for Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes, because he was so funny.
An award should go, though, for the guy who came and stood right in front of me as Bright Eyes started. Not content with scuffing the toes of my Converse with the heels of his feet (ie; standing on them), he proceeded to freak out throughout the concert, shaking his head violently, leaning backwards suddenly to sing along & point nonsensically at the stage (forcing me to lean back also, lest he bat me in the face with his stupid cranium), and leaning right in my field of vision in order to snog his girlfriend.
So that's the stuff that grated on me. Now for the good stuff.
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| Jenny and Johnny - excellent support for Bright Eyes |
I arrived at the Academy (Academy 1 - the big one that you don't need to race up three flights of stairs for!) as the support act, Jenny And Johnny, were playing. I don't think I missed too much and they were excellent. Quite a healthy continual swapping of instruments, which is something I always love to see - bass, guitars, keyboards, passed round from one song to the next, and each played with high levels of versatility and skill. And the harmonies - oh, good harmonies are so necessary and can lift a song from good to heart-soaringly majestic. A lot of people will cite Girls Aloud as being good pop, and I sort of see why - yes, the songs are catchy, but stop for two seconds and think - how many people have stopped you and said "What the hell are these songs about? They're NONSENSE!", but the main gripe for me is that there are five of them. Are any of them singing a harmony? No, they're all singing the same melody. Doesn't that seem wasteful to you? Do me a favour, and find a copy of the song 'Sing For Your Supper' by Cathy Davey - by the end of that song you're ready to burst out those harmony lines at the top of your lungs whilst crying at the sheer majesty & beauty of it all. THAT'S what music can do.
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| Bright Eyes take the stage |
Um, yes, so Jenny And Johnny were good. The crowd dispersed a little in the interval, and I made my way to near the front. I was still a few 'rows' back, but I was near enough. Eventually the lights dimmed a little & band members made their way onstage, then 'Old Soul Song (For The New World Order)' kicked in. As the set progressed, I didn't know whether I was surprised or not at what a ball of energy Conor Oberst is onstage. I've always been guilty of assuming that Bright Eyes is Oberst writing & recording under that moniker, but the more I've thought about it, people like Nate Walcott and certainly Mike Mogis make the band as much as he does. Granted, Oberst is the centre of it all, they are his songs after all, but everyone brings their production & musical skills to the records and the live shows, and never was it more apparent to me than here.
Oberst wheeled around the stage during instrumental breaks, like a musical catherine wheel, and also during songs, had a catalogue of subtle hand-based mimes to go with certain lyrics, which I'm sure were not just for showmanship, but also a handy mnemonic tool for remembering lyrics. If you have listened to Bright Eyes before, you'll know that he is among the wordiest of contemporary songwriters, so a small gesture for "as the cylinder rolls" as part of a song's routine does not seem out of place.
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| I didn't take many photos (many people practically watched the concert through their camera screens!) and this was my favourite. |
One of my favourite parts of the night was towards the end, when introducing the band. Conor worked his way around the stage, giving a a few choice facts about each band member, before encouraging everyone to go nuts for that person while the whole band played four or five bars of a riff, culminating in him encouraging us to then go nuts for the stage crew and, finally, ourselves. It was a lovely piece of showmanship. Then there was a rousing rendition of "One For You, One For Me", ending with the same recording that ends 'The People's Key' (the album that they're touring). It was a wonderful show, and as the lights came up, I actually saw, all starry-eyed and pleasantly ringing of ear, the chap I was supposed to be meeting there in the first place!
What else happened on this long weekend, then?
Precious little, in all honesty. The Thursday & the Friday were spent exploring Manchester, and ignoring my complaining limbs as I walked the crap out of them. My arrival in Manchester was, as it has always been, a thrilling stroll out of Piccadilly Station, towards the city centre, and wondering if I'd be able to find my hotel without the usual desperate two-hour walk before giving up & getting a taxi (Sheffield has always been the bane of my life for finding places & things - I have become lost & tearful on every visit). This time, finding my hotel was such a swift & painless affair ("I'll just walk down this street and get my beari...OH! IT'S THERE!"), that the time I'd factored into finding was immediately redundant, and I was an hour early for check-in. The staff at The Britannia kindly looked after my bags in the interim, so I swaggered off & killed an hour by finding my way to the Academy venue & back.
Manchester Metropolitan University is right by the Academy, and is the university from which I graduated. Alas, I did not go to any of the Manchester-based campi (I stayed at home and studied in Alsager at their Arts & Design faculty there), but nevertheless I felt proud to be walking past a university and thinking "Yes, I am an almnus of this place." Had I studied in Manchester itself, doubtless I would be living there by now & alot would be different, but on the other hand, I dodged an inevitable overhanging debt and I wouldn't have had any of the experiences that make me who I am now, so regret, as they say, is a mug's game.
I had arrived in Manchester on graduation day, and it was rather touching & sentimental to see graduating students from all over the world, dressed in their gowns & mortarboards, talking excitedly to their parents, relatives and boyfriends/girlfriends. It's always nice to see life happening - the positive, life-affirming moments, and not just people desperate to keep moving, ignoring things around them, or arguing. Good days happen, life is kind, and I was having two such days right there.
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| My hotel room doorway. The room was lovely, just not the door. |
I got back to the hotel and had a cup of tea and a sit-down, helping myself to the first of two cups of tea. I found a double-bill of Only Fools & Horses on the TV, chuckled a bit, and noted that from the window of my hotel room (which was, incidentally, right by a stairwell and jarred considerably with the lavish reception & hallways), I could see the coach station to which I had walked all those years ago in 1998, after having my wallet stolen before going to the Apollo to see Neil Finn on his first solo tour. There is a blog about that somewhere, which I will repost if it's not here already.
The day after Bright Eyes, I went to the music shop I had failed to find the previous day (well, I did find it in the end, but one whole hour after it had shut, so I returned during opening hours), and nosed around the guitars & acoutrements. I followed this with a meal at Gourmet Burger Kitchen, which is on Manchester's riverside, near the new building complex on the edge of Salford. It was a delightful meal, the staff all very friendly (although still with that traditional catering skill of asking how your food is, just as you've taken a big mouthful), and the restaurant's in-house stereo not only played The Cure's 'Friday I'm In Love' (reminder - it was Friday & I was also in love with everything that day), but also played 'It's Only Natural' by Crowded House. There were other magic tunes too, so I loved that restaurant.
From thence, I paid a visit to the People's Museum, which documents the struggle of the working classes to acquire the vote, the prices paid, and the formation of unions, all the way to the present day achievements of shorter working hours, time off and soforth. As is often the case with visits to places like this, my fact retention is always somewhat lacking, but it was both good & interesting to get a feel for the events of over 300 or so years ago. I'm good at understanding the concept of those times, leading up to now, even if I couldn't tell you specifics!
Eventually, the time came to bid farewell to Manchester and head home. The hotel had stowed my bags after I checked out, which gave me license to roam the city unencumbered, and was a relief, as I had imagined all the above-mentioned meals & trips taking place with me lugging bags about, knocking things over, and generally leaving chaos in my wake. I was thankful that this was not the case. As I boarded the train and watched Manchester escape from my clutches, it started raining. It didn't stop raining until fairly recently (it is now Thursday - I have been not finishing this blog for DAYS now), and that rain, as I mentioned at the start, sank into my heart & refused to be expunged from it until today, which is, coincidentally, the first day that the interminable mouth ulcers stopped being a restrictive burden. So all in all, things are getting good.
And with that tale of music & exploration now wrapped up neatly, I shall bid you adieu. It has been love to share these events with you, now exactly a week after they happened, and I hope you enjoyed reading them. In FACT, I hope you read them at all. Until next time,
TARA,
John.xx
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